Chapter 5
Where is Ethan Darlington hiding? Last year, hardly a week went by without a headline about the youngest Darlington brother.
But in recent weeks, things have been unusually quiet where this eligible bachelor is concerned.
Has he been tamed by a woman? Or is he simply keeping a low profile until the trial of his father, Richard Darlington, is over?
Excerpt from INsider article
Ethan
I took off my reading glasses and massaged the bridge of my nose.
My eyes were burning, and my head was practically smoking.
I’d spent the last three hours going through secondary sources for my new paper.
I couldn’t make it too good; otherwise Professor Sattler would accuse me of plagiarism again.
But I didn’t want it to be terrible either, so I was trying to find the perfect middle ground: bad enough that Professor Sattler would buy it and good enough to pave the way for better marks in the long run.
I leant back and focussed my gaze on the distance to give my eyes a rest. From my sofa, I could see the roof of the building opposite.
Henry and my parents had a perfect view of the Thames and the city centre from their penthouses, whereas my flat faced the bleaker side.
I didn’t complain, though. For them, the hotel was home; for me, it was just a stopgap.
As soon as the dust around my dad’s scandal had settled, I would leave and get my own place.
The only reason why I hadn’t already packed my bags and found myself another flat was my mum.
She was going through a rough time, and I wanted to be there for her, like she’d been there for me in the past.
Even if that meant living under the same roof as him.
When I heard the lock of my flat door click open, I expected to see Grace, but it was the woman who had cleaned my flat while Grace had been gone.
Madelyn smiled at me. She was friendly but somewhat dull. “Hello, Mr. Darlington.”
“Hello, Madelyn,” I said. I’d asked her more than once to call me Ethan—Mr. Darlington was my dad—but she always reverted back to addressing me formally, and I’d given up calling her out on it. “Where’s Grace?”
“It’s her day off today, sir.”
“Thanks,” I said, and put my reading glasses back on, leaving Madelyn to get on with her work.
But my concentration was shot. I found myself wondering how Grace was doing after her breakdown earlier this week.
I could only imagine how terrible it must have felt for her to cry in front of me, of all people.
Grace didn’t think very highly of me, and with good reason.
I hadn’t exactly shown her my best side.
The fact that she nevertheless allowed me to comfort her was testament to her strength.
Being vulnerable took a lot of courage, especially in my world, where vulnerability made you a target.
A lesson I’d had to learn early on from my dad.
Thoughtfulness was rewarded with betrayal.
A display of feelings left you open to manipulation.
If you revealed your weaknesses, you only had yourself to blame when other people took advantage of you.
Which was why I had always avoided revealing mine.
“Are you going to drink this?” Madelyn asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I looked up. She was pointing at my protein shake on the coffee table. “No, you can get rid of it.”
She nodded and cleared the cup away. It made me think of Grace again, and how she would probably have said something about my pathetic muscles needing the protein. Even though I was in peak condition now that I’d cut out partying, weed, and alcohol and had started making sure I got enough sleep.
I was debating whether to do a second workout when my phone buzzed.
Mum:
Will you come to afternoon tea with me?
That solved the question of my second workout, for now.
Of all my family members, I was the closest to my mum.
I always had been. It made it hard for me to turn her down, especially when her request was something as simple as having a cup of tea with her.
It was only a small thing, but I knew it would mean a lot to her.
And if I was being honest, I could do with a little break and some company.
Me:
I’ll come and get you in five.
I closed my laptop and went to the bedroom to swap my jogging bottoms and hoodie for linen trousers and a turtleneck jumper—sometimes it was easier to go along with the customs and rules of the hotel than to rebel against them. Then I headed to my parents’ penthouse.
My mum was already waiting for me in the corridor.
She wore a dark-blue sheath dress and had her blond hair pinned up to show off her diamond necklace and matching earrings.
She smiled when she saw me. The lines on her face were far less pronounced than one might expect of a woman in her fifties.
My mum was beautiful and elegant, yet profoundly sad.
And though her smile now was genuine, I could see the shadow that had lingered in her eyes for months.
I was beginning to wonder if it would ever lift.
I returned her smile and kissed her on the cheek. “Hi, Mum.”
“Hello, sweetie.”
“Shall we?”
She nodded, and I offered her an arm. My mum was fairly tall—she’d been a model before marrying my dad—and in her heels, we were pretty much the same height. “Thanks for coming to afternoon tea with me. I hope I’m not keeping you from anything important.”
“You’re not. I was about to take a break anyway.”
“I sensed as much. Maternal instincts,” she said with a grin as we stepped into the lift.
Like the rest of the hotel, it exuded a time-honoured elegance.
Everything at The Darlington was fitted out with the latest technology, yet surrounded by stucco ceilings, heavy chandeliers, and intricately carved wooden panelling.
You couldn’t help but feel transported to another age.
“How are things at uni?”
I considered telling her about Professor Sattler and his false accusations of plagiarism, but I didn’t want to worry her. “Good. My marks are better this term.”
“I’m glad. You’ve always been the cleverest in the family. You just lacked a bit of focus the last few years, but that’s perfectly normal at your age.” She patted me on the arm.
My mum was the only one who’d never let my wild behaviour and excesses change her opinion of me. She knew the real Ethan and understood just as well as I did that my party-boy behaviour had little to do with my age and everything to do with the man who had catapulted our family into crisis.
Chandeliers and gilt wall lamps bathed the tearoom in warm light.
The scent of flower arrangements mingled with the sweet smell of freshly baked pastries and the rich aroma of tea.
The tables were set with the finest porcelain, and Theodore, the pianist, played a quiet melody on the piano in the corner.
My mum and I made our way to the table right next to the fireplace, which was reserved exclusively for our family.
I had just pulled back a chair for her and taken my own seat when a waiter hurried over to us with the afternoon tea menu.
Alongside a large selection of teas, there were scones and sandwiches on offer.
I ordered a classic Earl Grey and sandwiches.
My mum asked for champagne with her tea, along with a selection of seasonal pastries and cakes.
“How is your brother doing?” my mum asked in a tone that was trying a little too hard to be casual.
I didn’t have to ask which of my two brothers she meant.
Logan might as well not have existed as far as my parents were concerned.
He had attended the same British boarding school as Henry for a while, but then our parents had sent him away to France as a teenager.
No one ever talked about why, and even now, years later, my mum evaded all questions on the subject.
Whatever had happened, her relationship with Logan had broken down because of it.
Logan had turned his back on the family and the hotel and built a life of his own, free of the Darlington name.
It was something I envied him for, but it also made it harder for me to get to know him better—something I would have liked to do.
“Why don’t you ask Henry yourself?” I suggested.
Henry and I had grown closer over the last two months.
We weren’t best friends, nor did we share a close brotherly bond—not yet—but things had improved since he’d told me about his addiction.
Not to mention since I had started making a concerted effort to get my life back on track.
Henry still sometimes eyed me sceptically, but I couldn’t really blame him.
After all, I had attracted a lot of negative press to our family and the hotel, and trust wasn’t something that appeared overnight. It had to be earned.
“He would only lie to me.”
“He wouldn’t need to lie if you’d just accept his truth,” I said, trying to play peacemaker between Henry and our mum, both stubborn in their own way. Even so, I couldn’t deny that I was with Henry on this particular issue.
“I only want what’s best for him.”
“Maybe what’s best for him isn’t actually what you think it is.
” My mum strove for perfection, not only in her appearance, but in the family’s reputation.
And no one fitted less into that picture than Kate Hamilton, with her battered leather jacket, torn jeans, and cheap earrings.
“Henry is happy with Kate. They love each other. And nothing you’ve said in the last few months has succeeded in driving them apart.
Perhaps it’s time to accept their relationship.
I’m sure Henry would be willing to forgive you if you reached out to him and apologised. ”
“I don’t know if I can do that,” my mum admitted. “You can’t imagine what I’ve had to listen to because of this woman. People are talking about the two of them, and it’s not exactly kind.”